


tie me in ribbons and put me away

by vavafroome (spaceboy_niko)



Series: twelve days of ficmas [2]
Category: Cycling RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Bondage, M/M, Ribbons, we're going there babey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:41:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27978267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceboy_niko/pseuds/vavafroome
Summary: on the second day of christmas, wout van aert wraps his own present.
Relationships: Wout van Aert/Mathieu van der Poel
Series: twelve days of ficmas [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2045978
Kudos: 13





	tie me in ribbons and put me away

**Author's Note:**

> aaaaaaand i'm back on my bullshit! something i know much more about compared to snow
> 
> on a similar note thank you everyone who helpfully informed me about snow, i severely underestimated how cold and small europe is. i'm enlightened now and snow sounds less good than christmas movies starring kristin chenoweth have made it seem (seriously big thanks i'm an idiot)
> 
> i don't normally write wout/mathieu but tbh no one else would work for festive bondage so here we are, with not enough words for Character Development™
> 
> (title is from fool's holiday by all time low, my shameful top artist of 2020. thanks spotify!)

To wrap their larger Christmas presents this year, Wout buys a long reel of red satin ribbon. It’s as wide as his palm, printed with silver glittery snowflakes that leave his hands sparkly as he ties it into methodical bows around boxes.

Mathieu doesn’t help with the wrapping - he tried a few Christmases ago, and did such a terrible job of it that Wout forbade him from helping in future, so now he just holds paper in place while Wout tries to find the end of the sticky tape.

“What are we going to do with the rest of that ribbon?” Mathieu asks coyly as Wout sits on the floor and finishes tying off one of the last presents, leaning on him to watch over his shoulder.

“Save it for next year?” It feels like a trick question that Wout’s definitely gotten wrong.

Mathieu rolls his eyes, and kisses Wout on the temple.

“I was thinking something more this festive season, Woutje.”

He leans heavily on Wout’s shoulders to stand up, and tweaks the perpetually-wonky star on top of their tree.

* * *

When all the presents are wrapped and stacked under the tree, Wout unspools the last of the ribbon and discovers he’s got a bit over a metre of the stuff left. It’s definitely enough to use next year, but he can’t help thinking about Mathieu’s question: _what are we going to do with the rest of that ribbon?_

He tests its strength, wrapping it around his wrist, pulling it over his palm and giving it a short tug. It’s stronger than he’s expecting, the edges digging into his skin enough to leave faint parallel lines when he releases the tension.

He winds the rest of the ribbon loosely around his hand, and wanders through the house to find Mathieu in their bedroom, half-hanging off the bed because his charger doesn’t reach far enough. Wout thinks he should’ve gotten him a longer cable for Christmas, but it’s a bit late now.

Mathieu looks up at Wout standing in the doorway. “You’re done?”

Wout nods, then hesitates. “I think I’ve got one more thing to wrap. I might need your help, though.”

He holds the ribbon up, lets it unfurl, and Mathieu’s eyes light up.

Wout has never tied anyone up before, but the way Mathieu is looking at him dispels any nervousness he has, like anything he does will be above and beyond Mathieu’s expectations.

Mathieu’s already pulling his hoodie off as Wout makes his way over to the bed, and tries to start taking off Wout’s shirt as Wout leans down to kiss him. It’s a bit of a tangle, and Mathieu laughs like it’s Wout’s fault.

Mathieu wriggles out of his sweatpants and kicks them off his ankles onto the floor, proffering his wrists to Wout eagerly.

Wout wraps the ribbon around Mathieu’s wrists and pulls it taut, tying it in a big floppy bow. It looks ridiculous, and Wout can’t hold in a chuckle.

“This looks so stupid, Matje.”

“You wouldn’t say that about any of the other presents you wrapped,” Mathieu pouts. “Tie it a little tighter.”

Wout obliges.

“This okay?” he asks, and Mathieu nods. Wout double-knots it, just for good measure, and uses the long tails to guide Mathieu’s hands up over his head to the bed frame. The knot he ties here is less aesthetically pleasing, but does the job of holding Mathieu to the bed with only a length of ribbon’s worth of freedom.

He looks lovely like this - torso long and stretched out, flushed down to his chest, the outline of his dick clear through his briefs. The ribbon is bright against his pale skin, glitter in smatterings where Wout’s touched him.

“If you get glitter in my ass, I’ll kill you,” Mathieu threatens as Wout leans over him, fishing lube and the box of condoms out of their bedside drawer.

Wout kisses him on the forehead and grins. “I’ll try my best not to.”

Mathieu seems to forget how his hands are tied, and pulls his hands forward, reaching out for Wout to pull him down into a kiss, but the ribbon stops him short, tense between his wrists and the bed frame.

“Wout,” Mathieu whines.

“What? Are you sick of this already?” Wout asks mildly, tearing a condom off from the strip and tossing the box aside. “I can untie you if you want.”

Mathieu shakes his head. “Just fuck me already.”

Wout hums, and tugs down Mathieu’s boxers in a fluid motion. He pumps lube over his fingers, rubs it between them to warm it, and dips his hand down between Mathieu’s legs, and Mathieu gasps as Wout’s fingertips brush over his hole, rubbing small circles over and over, but never penetrating. The sound is lost as Wout lowers himself down to slowly, lazily kiss Mathieu.

“Fucking tease,” Mathieu groans into Wout’s mouth, and Wout laughs.

Mathieu sighs when Wout finally slips a finger into him, then two, then three, curling and stretching his fingers and drawing out a symphony of gasps, whines and moans, until Mathieu is pulling at his restraints, unable to touch Wout and return the favours.

“Wout, _please_ ,” Mathieu begs, twisting and untwisting his hands around the ribbon, hips twitching, trying to follow Wout’s rhythm. Wout’s hard from the sight of Mathieu squirming, and he’s quick to strip himself down, roll on a condom and slick his cock up, pressing into Mathieu with a smooth, slow roll of his hips.

Mathieu groans as he adjusts to the stretch, fingers splayed like he’s reaching for Wout, and Wout tangles their fingers together as he begins to move.

“Harder, harder,” Mathieu pants, and Wout obliges him, readjusting his grip to Mathieu’s hips, the slap of skin on skin filling the room and mingling with Mathieu’s soft noises. The ribbon keeps Mathieu strung out and helpless, sensations centred on where it presses into his wrists and where Wout’s cock rams into his prostate. Wout is enraptured, watching Mathieu’s abdomen tense, feeling him tighten around his cock, and keeps going - they’re both close, and Wout goes to reach for Mathieu's cock to finish him off, but it becomes apparent very quickly that he doesn't have to.

“Fuck, Wout, please, I’m gonna-” Mathieu white-knuckles the ribbon in his fists, tenses up all around Wout, and comes hard and messy over his stomach. Wout keeps going, thrusts becoming shallower and faster, until he’s over the edge, hips stilling inside Mathieu.

Mathieu winces as Wout pulls out, but relaxes, catching his breath, only held up by the ribbon around his wrists.

“Good?” Wout asks, watching the heavy rise and fall of his chest.

Mathieu nods, smile spreading lazily onto his face. “Yeah, fuck. Can you untie me, Woutje?” he asks.

Wout grins. “I don’t know. I was always told you shouldn’t unwrap your presents before Christmas.”

Mathieu knees him in the side, and Wout just laughs.


End file.
